Matt and I have really been trying to make the most of our time here and this weekend was no exception. It was a bank holiday weekend and the perfect opportunity to travel outside of London... but not tooo far outside. We decided to try Cornwall - the Southwestern most county of England known for being a bit of a rogue.
I raced home from work, threw a few more things into our bags, and we were off to Heathrow airport. Now I know you're thinking, why fly? Well, we didn't fly, but we did rent a car to drive down rather than taking the train. We rented a manual Astra (Matt felt right at home getting to use his left hand for shifting). A quick, initial stall-out in the parking lot and we were on our way...
Friday evening, we drove from London to the Bristol area with the intention of driving thru Cheddar (for cheese) and Somerset (for cider) the next day on our way to Cornwall. We decided to take some A-roads rather than the main motorway, with it being a bank holiday weekend and all. This was a good idea, but meant that signage was even fewer and further between. The signs that were there were often obscured by some shrub or other. Once we got to some bigger roads in Bath, we thought we were in the clear. That was, until we hit a confusing one-way intersection and Matt read "no entry" upside down and backwards and bailed left for safety. While I applaud his instinctive decision-making skills, we spent the next 10 minutes turning ourselves around and figuring out how to get back through the city. We finally arrived at our Best Western Bristol, made a quick run to the KFC in the truckstop, and continued planning the next day's drive.
Drives thru the English countryside are always beautiful no matter what the weather. Lucky for us, today was mostly sunny and the fields were full of vivid yellows and vibrant greens. The green in the UK is the most saturated, yellow-green I've ever seen; it's my favourite colour (and deserving of an extra "u" or two). Our first stop was a tiny cafe selling local cheddars and cider. This cheese and cider stop was followed by more cheese and cider... all the way down to Cornwall. We stopped in the town of Cheddar; that's right, the place that cheddar cheese is named after. We enjoyed a small tour and educational video of the last cheesemakers in Cheddar. Fascinating. Of course, no tour is complete without a taster session and boy, I wasn't about to miss a cheese-tasting session! We were met with an incredible variety of cheddar: smoked cheddar, chive and cider cheddar, port cheddar, mild cheddar, medium cheddar, strong cheddar, vintage cheddar, chili cheddar, and they're speciality, cave-aged cheddar. That was something! They have continued the tradition of aging cheddar in the naturally controlled climate of the Cheddar Gorge caves. You really could taste the difference and it was good! Our food-tour continued with some stops at a few local cider farms... of course, picking up a few jugs to take home. Unfortunately, we were not as successful in finding Devonshire clotted cream.
We eventually made our way to the B&B we had reserved (
Hill Park Farm). Our hostess had written some directions from the main highway to the B&B. Her directions took us down two country lanes just wide enough for the car. Every so often there would be some extra space on the side in case you had to pull over and allow oncoming cars to pass by. It’s a good thing too because just as we came around a curve, we were met with a huge tractor coming right for us. We avoided disaster and soon were bringing our bags into our lovely room complete with a private entrance (one of those doors cut in half so the top and bottom open separately). Given our initial chat with our hostess and the loveliness of the room, I was eagerly looking forward to breakfast.
Breakfast was superb! Homemade bread, farm fresh eggs (they were laid just the day before at the farm across the street), local bacon and sausage, and homegrown veg. Truly luxurious. As we were finishing breakfast, I looked up just in time to see a tiny head peering down from the top of the stairs. Once he had Mum’s approval, the little boy bounced down the steps and immediately began showing Matt and I his homemade weapons collection including his bow made from a small branch, a shield, and a saber (wooden, naturally). We felt safer.
Our big plan for the day was to get up to
Tintagel. The first thing we had to do was pronounce it correctly; it’s tin-tajel, not tint-agel. Tintagel castle has been a well-trodden site... Bronze Age peoples, Romans, and it even made it into the Domesday Book. Despite all of that, it is probably most known as the suspected birthplace of King Arthur. Therefore, it seems perfectly reasonable for the town to be covered with shops such as King Arthur’s Halls and Merlin’s Crystals. Though much of the castle has long been dismantled, the area was beautiful and the views were certainly magical. Since it was low tide, we ventured down the steep steps and rocks and into the few sea caves - including the mystical, magical Merlin's cave.
We decided to try to stop at one more English Heritage site.
Restormel Castle, a 13th century circular shell-keep, is in remarkably good condition. It stands on an earlier Norman mound surrounded by a deep dry ditch. It is yet another fantastic sight that our well-used membership gets us into... if we could make it there in time! We pulled up with 15 minutes til closing and managed to talk our way into grounds.
Once we made it back to the B&B, Matt and I decided to tackle a walk before dark. It was about 2 miles going thru two very small towns and two cow pastures. The first challenge was finding the trail head. We’ve found the UK, in general, to have a poor record for clearly signposting directions. We finally found the trail at the back gate of someone’s farm. We trampled through two cow fields taking on a good number of nosey, yet panicky cows. We bravely avoided both electric fences and a small stampede - luckily, running away from us. Just when we were coming down our homestretch of road, we were met by some young cows... in the road... outside their fence. We were a bit confused, especially since this sight was accompanied by some of the strangest cow moaning I've ever heard. Apparently, the young cows sneaked through the gate while the farmer was picking some flowers for his wife (awww) and the mothers across the street were either mad or worried about their children (awww again!). Unfortunately, we didn't know how to help and certainly didn't want to drive them further down the road, so we just stood and stared until the farmer's wife came up the road pushing them back onto the farm. Never a dull moment!
The next day, we headed back to London, but certainly not on the most direct route. First, we made our way to
Trethevy Quoit - a well-preserved, Neolithic 'dolmen' burial chamber. Quite the sight! And even more so since it's right next to a farmhouse. Another stop we had to make before going home was Bishops Nympton. Bishops Nympton is a very, very small village in the county of Devon; it is unremarkable and unimportant except that my Great-Great Gran was born there. We found our way down more narrow country paths and into the town centre comprised of a pub and a post office and a few thatched-roof houses. We decided to have a swift half in The Snare & Gin Trap... with no one else in the pub except the barkeep who was playing the generic videogame. He relayed that someone in the village was having a barbecue which meant the whole village was at that person's house. If not, they were at the beach. Unfortunately, we couldn't wait until 7pm when they were expected back to ask questions about my Gran's family. Regretfully, we continued our journey back to Ealing.
Relaxed from the weekend's leisure and engrossing serenity, I fell onto the bed and tried not to think about going to work in the morning.
For pictures,
click here.
